


Fight Me

by ryukoishida



Series: Sunlight Frenzy. Endless Tales. [21]
Category: Arslan Senki | Heroic Legend of Arslan
Genre: M/M, Rare Pairings, never gonna gieve this pairing up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 22:29:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8262716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryukoishida/pseuds/ryukoishida
Summary: As much as he hates to admit it, Gieve cannot help but stare, his fingers itching to reach for his own blade strapped by his waist so that he can exchange blows with this stranger whose swordsmanship exudes a kind of striking elegance and immense power that makes Gieve’s blood sing with anticipation and pleasure. Prompt: “Fight me, you attractive stranger.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> I’M NOT GIEVING UP ON THIS RAREPAIR. The scene mentioned at the beginning of this fic didn’t happen in the anime, which is such a shame. You can read more about it in my book 6 summary (chapter iv).

While he and Farangis have swiftly and effectively rescued Prince Arslan’s favourite guest, the Lusitanian knight-in-training named Etoile, as well as a tall, brooding stranger with piercing eyes, Gieve hasn’t really have a chance to know the newcomer, who calls himself Merlane and proclaims to be the older brother of the feisty Alfreed. 

The two siblings cannot be anymore dissimilar: where Alfreed is optimistically carefree, boisterous, and eager, Merlane is eerily calm, unsmiling, and inapproachable. A wild and headstrong blossom borne of summer and the solid foundation of an impassive rock that shelters her from the howling storms. 

If one were to point out to Gieve that he has a certain type when it comes to his choices of romantic partners, the wandering minstrel would have laughed heartily and agreed. It’s no secret that Gieve harbors attraction and fascination especially for those who prove to be a personal challenge for him. Whether they’re men and women are of no consequence to him, because as he’s pronounced to those who would listen, each person on this earth has at least one appealing attribute that’s worth another person’s love and devotion.

“Even someone as stubborn as Prince Hilmes has qualities that others find amiable,” Gieve once said to Arslan, who was the only one patient enough to carry such conversations at this point, “not that he’ll ever be my cup of tea though. Tenacity is a wonderful trait until you go past a certain point.”

Arslan could only chuckle in reply. Against Gieve’s silver-tongue and eloquently-argued viewpoints about romantic affairs, the young prince of Pars can only treat them as amusing stories that are not applicable to his own inexperienced self. 

Returning to the present, Gieve is wandering through the courtyard of the mansion that has officially become the Crown Prince’s office when he spots the man in question who seems to be practicing his sword techniques by himself, his entire attention solely focused on the movements of his body. 

The sun has set hours ago, but despite being illuminated merely by the few torches hanging high on the surrounding walls, the outline of Merlane’s body is crisp – a stark contrast of shifting shadows of his bare arms moving elegantly and gleaming light of the sword as it dances and cuts through the humid air with sharp, dangerous whispers. 

As much as he hates to admit it, Gieve cannot help but stare, his fingers itching to reach for his own blade strapped by his waist so that he can exchange blows with this stranger whose swordsmanship exudes a kind of striking elegance and immense power that makes Gieve’s blood sing with anticipation and pleasure. 

With a smirk tugging one corner of his lips and the familiar heaviness of his sword in his hand, Gieve strides forward into the orange glow of the torches and directly in the path of Merlane’s sword as the musician maneuvers his weapon to block the other man’s blow with a cacophonous peal. 

Not expecting the sudden appearance of an opponent, Merlane jumps back a step with a gasp and lowers his body into a defensive stance, sword held lithely in his hand and cold eyes – now that Gieve can see a bit clearer upon closer inspection, that are the lovely shade of amaranth flowers – gazing at him in a quiet but careful scrutiny. 

As much as Merlane admires Gieve’s archery skills, he still doesn’t know the wandering musician enough to know the man’s intention – interrupting him like this when there’s no reason for them to talk. 

Words are crafty when spoken by some, and from the playful glint in Gieve’s eyes and the impish grin that emphasizes his elfin features, Merlane is hesitant about his next move – that is, until Gieve finally breaks the silence. 

“Fight me, you attractive stranger,” Gieve says, brandishing his sword with a practiced arc.


End file.
